


silence is the most powerful scream

by karminy



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 09:49:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10806681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karminy/pseuds/karminy
Summary: “Are you out of your mind?” He finally murmured. Completely disbelieving, confused and perhaps disappointed, and even sad. Something inside me shifted, regretting that I had hurt him.





	silence is the most powerful scream

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy

“Come,” Hansol whispered dryly, glaring at me. He walked out the door, and through several others, leaving the mansion where we should be celebrating. Out of respect, and a little bit of fear, I followed.

We walked in silence after we left the noisy party. The dawn offered empty streets, terribly cold and thick fogged, but also silent and private. That's what we needed to try to solve our problems. Privacy. At least, I hoped it was enough.

Honestly, the silence bothered me, but I deserved it. What had been the attitude of separating him from his girlfriend by pulling her through the hair during their kiss? Not that she did not deserve it, spreading false rumors about me, but in public? It was a questionable decision, I could admit it myself. The acknowledgement turning my face into a curled grimace, I felt stupid and childlike.

I asked when we were going to stop, but we proceeded for long minutes, or hours, without him manifesting himself. I just followed him, not brave enough to interrupt him or question him further. It would be, in a way, a form of me to challenge and finally start the fight we were leading into. I'd just rather he started with that part.

We came to a square, there were not many trees, but the few they had were leafy, with large, thick leaves. He stopped, leaning against one of them, and I looking across the aisle from the tree where he stood, to a bench. I understood that I should sit down, which I did, still in silence, crossing my legs as I sat down.

“Are you out of your mind?” He finally murmured. Completely disbelieving, confused and perhaps disappointed, and even sad. Something inside me shifted, regretting that I had hurt him.

“Don’t know. I wasn’t thinking clearly,” I admitted, in a low voice, very ashamed. My eyes filled with tears, disrupting my vision. I cried silently for a few minutes, while he let me, by keeping his distance. 

After awhile, though, he groaned in frustration and walked towards me. Touching my hands and taking them away from my face and forcing me to look into his face, I could feel a heavy guilty coming from him, clear in his tormented brown eyes. My throat tightened, my body rejecting itself.

He waited another minutes, confirming that I really stopped crying, before stepping back and going to stand near the tree again.

“I noticed that. But it's not about today, it's about everything,” he finally replied, clearly tired and disappointed.

"I do not know what you're talking about,” I bluffed, managing my face into some sort of emotionless mask, that might not have been working very well considering he cheeks still felt tear streaked. 

“About how unhappy you look since I walked away,” he explained, a little arrogant and a little embarrassed.

“As you said, you walked away,” I pointed out with a smirk, unable to hide my contempt.

“And what did you want me to do?” He shouted, frustration and anger exploding, his hands outstretched toward the sky. I barely shrugged, having no answer to offer, “You just play with me, you always do, like it’s the only thing I’m interesting for. Like I'm a game to you, even if I tried really hard to not care, to indulge you,” he confesses with a sour, upside down smile. 

I breathe heavily, one of my hands sliding down my own hair, slipping into my bare neck. My silence, gladly, is correctly interpreted by him as me trying to gather my thought, which he gives me time for. I shake my head, holding back the tears of confusion and embarrassment upon the realization of what a fuck up I was, and yet he’s the one talking still.

"Because I thought you wanted me at your side,” Vernon admitted, his eyes lost and his voice drawn, “but then the little prince admits that he was with me for comfort, because he was too insecure to be alone and to break up with me definitively. That, in fact, not resisting me was causing you pain!” he laughed, humorless, “it made you weak,” he finished, recalling a conversation I had had so long ago with Jihoon.

I bit my lip, feeling like a wreck. And in that moment, I was that and much more.

“I felt like a frustrated idiot, a heartless one. Trying to fight for you, wanting you well and your happiness and actually causing you pain, being a hindrance,” he seethed, rolling his eyes and so much disgust in his expression, “I also felt betrayed by your lack of ability to open up and talk to me, because we could have talked. So ... I let you go,” he finished with a shrug, lips pressed tightly to a line of grief and regret. He made it clear that there was no other choice to him.

Worse. I said nothing.

At that moment, I did not have the ability to say anything.

Neither admit my mistakes, nor deny them, nor try to change. Before that, it was all a mess, but I was not able to fix it, I hid in a mask of tears and let the guilt consume me. The bile rose hot and bitter through the esophagus, my breath was gasping for breath and my cheeks were burning, my body’s personal reaction to how ugly I felt inside.

He, as always patient, stand his ground and limited himself to look at me. Only that.

I burned, feeling my soul burn in hell under his gaze, taking no action.

Because I was too coward to try again, too proud to allow my heart to surrender again.

I was a fuck up.

He only made it clear that the first step was mine, but that he was waiting for me. That I could still take him back. 

I guess even Hansol’s patience had an ending point.

“And that's always your attitude,” he chided without emotion.

I raised my eyes to him, a little confused.

“You don’t talk, I don’t know why! But you do not talk to me. I always end up knowing about your problems by everyone else’s talk, and this destroys me inside, if you still haven’t realized. This is consuming us, this relationship that we sometimes try to fix, babe, even if it mostly feels like I’m the only one working for it. Stop trying to pretend you don't care, please! Please, at least try to talk to me, tell me what you're feeling, even if you're hating me right now.”

His voice was like knives. Or rather, like those medical needles that test the movements in the patient's' muscles. But I did not react. It would be better if they were bombs, to break this stone cold wall that was build inside me and I don’t think I even had control over anymore. My God, why did I not respond?

“Please,” he begs urgently and hopefully, “I know you care.”

I know I care too. But why can I not show it?


End file.
